


Marie of Roumania

by Normative Jean (normativejean), normativejean



Category: The Nanny
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normativejean/pseuds/Normative%20Jean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/normativejean/pseuds/normativejean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,<br/>A medley of extemporanea;<br/>And love is a thing that can never go wrong;<br/>And I am Marie of Roumania.</p><p>--"Comment" by Dorothy Parker</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marie of Roumania

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellolamppost17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellolamppost17/gifts).



> I hope this fic is somewhere around what you wanted! It started as something totally different and then...mutated is maybe not a strong enough word, lol. Partially inspired by CC’s comments about Niles when he had his heart attack. Many thanks to my beta; all remaining mess-ups are mine.

When Mr. Sheffield’s third assistant in as many months quit, Niles and Mrs. Sheffield decided it was useless to place bets on how long the next one would last. It wouldn’t even be worth the paper the money was printed on.

So it figured that when Niles answered the door during the latest round of interviews – he realized that Mr. Sheffield wanted to be close to his wife during her first pregnancy, but really, a home office for a Broadway producer just seemed _silly_ – it would be to let in a woman who could have made him a _lot_ of money.

It was enough to make Niles think he should give up gambling.

Before he could even take her name and announce her to Mr. Sheffield, she had thrown her fur coat at him and waltzed right on through the foyer and living room, straight on back towards the office. Niles growled and gripped the coat with both fists, debating whether it would be worth Mr. Sheffield’s anger to _accidentally_ drop the coat onto the floor where the latest sacrificial lamb had wiped her snowy boots.

Ultimately, however, he decided it wouldn’t be worth his time; after all, it would be much more entertaining to follow the insolent woman back to Mr. Sheffield’s office and listen to him lose his temper at her for barging in on him without waiting for Niles’ announcement.

This one wouldn’t even make it through the interview. Much as Niles hated picking up the slack whenever the latest assistant was run off by Mr. Sheffield’s misdirected anxiety (Niles shuddered to think of what the man would be like if he and his wife had _more_ children; he didn’t think he’d survive _this_ pregnancy), at least watching her be run out of the mansion in tears would be amusing.

What occurred when he arrived, however, was the absolute last thing he ever expected.

Instead of Mr. Sheffield reaming out the woman – blonde, Niles now noticed, and looking like she’d just stepped off the set of that _Dallas_ show that Mrs. Sheffield loved so much – he was staring at her, gobsmacked, as she stalked around his office, tossing out facts and figures about the theater industry and berating _him_ for allowing his latest play to go into production without first securing the touring company rights.

Niles stood just outside the doorway, out of sight of both people, and watched. Finally, the woman stopped her monologue and turned back to Mr. Sheffield, arms braced on her hips and chin tilted imperiously in the air.

“Listen, Mr. Sheffield,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You _are_ going to hire me. I’m far too qualified for you not to. And you’re going to promote me by year’s end, because I am going to become so invaluable to Maxwell Sheffield Productions that you’ll wonder how you ever got along without me. Quite frankly, you’re getting a much better deal here than I am.”

Niles blinked along with Mr. Sheffield, though whether his boss did so out of a dumbfounded respect for the woman, he didn’t know. But Mr. Sheffield recovered quickly, shaking his head and picking up a piece of paper. The woman’s resume, perhaps? Though Niles sincerely doubted that Mr. Sheffield would find what he was looking for there; it wasn’t likely that she had actually listed “ball-busting” as a job skill.

Though with shoulder pads like those, he supposed that anything was possible.

“Well, Ms. Babcock,” Mr. Sheffield finally said. “It seems that you’ve dispensed with the need for me to ask you any questions.” His tone was just this side of cutting, but that didn’t seem to faze the woman – Ms. Babcock, Niles repeated – at all.

“I don’t believe in wasting time, Mr. Sheffield. And I don’t believe in dancing around the subject at hand.”

 _No, though you probably dance around a dead goat every full moon,_ Niles thought, chuckling softly. Warmth and kindness didn’t exactly radiate off this woman. Not like Mrs. Sheffield. He almost dreaded the first time the two of them met.

Mr. Sheffield started to say something, but he closed his mouth instead. Niles watched him, noting that, even after so many years in such a cutthroat business, the man _still_ couldn’t keep his thoughts from showing on his face. He knew that look. Mr. Sheffield always made that face when he was making an important decision. Niles had seen it when he’d first decided to go into theater, when he moved his production company to the United States, when he’d first contemplated marrying Sara. And now Mr. Sheffield was directing that look at the infuriating woman who didn’t even say ‘hello’ when she walked through the door…

Still. At least she seemed to have a set of brass ones. Niles supposed there was something to be said for that.

“Alright, then, Ms. Babcock,” Mr. Sheffield said. He extended a hand, his face finally breaking into a relaxed grin, something Niles had only seen a handful of times since the doctor had put Mrs. Sheffield on bed rest. “You’re hired. Let’s see what you can do.”

Ms. Babcock shook his hand, and even from ten feet away, Niles could see the force with which she gripped. Niles couldn’t stifle a laugh; this woman was all man, baby.

“Oh, Niles.” Mr. Sheffield called out, leaning over a bit to see further into the hallway. Busted, Niles moved to the doorway, a feather duster in hand. “Come and meet my new assistant, CC Babcock.”

Niles entered, meeting Ms. Babcock’s eyes with no hesitation. She blinked, her surprise at being introduced to _the help_ plainly evident on her face.

“Ms. Babcock,” Mr. Sheffield said. “This is Niles, my butler and one of my oldest friends.”

“Friends?” Ms. Babcock blurted out, eyes bugging wide.

“Yes, friends,” Niles replied smoothly. “You know, people with whom one shares confidences and memories, on whom one relies and has rely on them? Though given what I’ve seen so far, I can understand how such a concept would elude you.”

Ms. Babcock’s lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed. Without turning away from Niles’s gaze, she seethed out, “Mr. Sheffield, is all your _help_ so insolent?”

“Now, Ms. Babcock.” Mr. Sheffield reprimanded her lightly. “Niles has been with my family since before I even moved to the States. He got me through Eton. And Oxford!”

“Yes,” Niles said, “and what fun that was.” Nothing like being reminded that he’d had access to the finest education in Britain, and he remained a domestic servant.

“Eton? Oxford?” Ms. Babcock fairly choked on the words. Recovering, she added, voice slipping a few notes lower, “So what was your major, Butler-Boy? Advanced Dish Washing?” She laughed, a deep, full bark that Niles could already tell would get on his very last nerve.

“Actually, I studied toxicology. You know, the study of _poisons_.”

“Hmph.” She didn’t respond, but Niles realized that she was no longer looking dismissively at him. Rather, she now seemed to be…if Niles didn’t know better, he’d think she was sizing him up.

 _Like a praying mantis._

Ooh, that was good. Niles actually hoped Ms. Babcock would be around long enough for him to get to use that one on her.

“Oh, wait,” Ms. Babcock suddenly said. Niles narrowed his eyes in anticipation; based on her tone, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “ _You_ ’ _re_ the one I gave my coat to when I arrived.”

Mr. Sheffield clapped his hands together. “Ah! I didn’t realize you two had already been introduced! Ever so sorry about that, then.”

She looked so proud of herself for getting in another dig at him about his place in the house that Niles almost felt bad about disappointing her. Almost. “Oh, was that you? You were gone so quickly that I just assumed you were the one bringing the new area rug we had scheduled for delivery this afternoon.”

Ms. Babcock’s eyes widened, and Niles allowed himself a small, triumphant grin at her strangled cry. “My chinchilla!” Without a second thought, she raced out of the office and back towards the entryway.

“Niles.” Mr. Sheffield shook his head and grimaced, but didn’t say anything further, instead opting to follow his new assistant. “Ms. Babcock, wait! He was only joking! It’s a…British thing.”

Alone, Niles leaned against the doorway. His smile settled into a thoughtful smirk as he considered Ms. Babcock. In the distance, he could hear her cursing his name; no doubt she’d discovered that her fur coat was in perfect condition. He chuckled softly and found himself hoping that she lasted longer than the other assistants had.

As long as she was here, Niles was going to have some _fun_.

***

“Maxwell,” CC said, traipsing into his office, Niles hot on her heels, “I swear, if you don’t call off your attack dog _this instant_ —“

Niles pouted, coming to stand beside her in front of Maxwell’s desk. “Now, really, Ms. Babcock, there’s no need to be so hard on yourself.”

She waved an arm in Niles’s direction. “Do you _see_ what I have to put up with?” She leaned forward onto the desk. “Why can’t we just work from Midtown like everyone else on Broadway?”

“Because there you have to stand on a street corner,” Niles said. “At least here, you have a stoop.”

“ _Niles_!”

***

“You know,” CC said as she wiped the water from the backyard hose from her face. “There’s a word for people like you. _Bastards_.”

Niles grinned, lowering the hose back to the row of rose bushes he had been watering before ‘accidentally’ spraying CC when she’d come outside. “Is that really the best you can do?”

CC hesitated for only a moment. Before Niles could react, she grabbed the hose from his hands and turned the spray at him. She laughed. “Nope! _That_ is.”

She went back inside, and as she closed the door she heard him chuckle once and mutter, “Well played.”

She smiled all the way to the guest bathroom.

***

It hadn’t even taken a year for Maxwell to promote her, and nearly three years later, she was practically the man’s business partner. CC almost hated being right all the time, except it meant that she got to lord her rightness over everyone who was wrong, and that was one of her favorite hobbies.

Her other favorite hobby was currently standing in the alcove off the main sitting area, polishing a large mirror. CC smirked as she contemplated her plan of attack; she’d been with Maxwell for almost three years now, and she had yet to repeat an insult directed at the butler.

She knew Maxwell didn’t understand, and she was _certain_ that Sara didn’t understand (although the way she watched the two of them sometimes, with a raised eyebrow and an almost-smile made CC wonder), but she and Niles just wouldn’t be _them_ if they weren’t trading barbs.

CC wondered when talking with the help had become the most fun part of her day. But then, Niles seldom helped anyone, least of all her, so she supposed he didn’t really count.

She’d never say it out loud, not even under torture, but at least Niles was smart. Even if he was insulting her, he was still better conversation than most of the men she encountered on a daily basis.

She didn’t care to contemplate what that said about her social circle.

“Hello, hello!” She strode through the doorway connecting the dining area to the sitting area, making sure Niles heard her enter.

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” Niles didn’t even turn around to acknowledge her, he just kept wiping the mirror.

“Cat!”

CC stopped short, looking around the room for the source of the third voice. Damn it, she hadn’t seen the child sitting at his feet. CC didn’t pretend to understand why Maxwell insisted on having one of the drooling, needy things; they were always underfoot and demanding something. She certainly couldn’t figure out why he and Sara were going for a second one.

Now fully in the room, CC saw that the little girl was smiling and waving at her, blonde pigtails bobbing with the movement. CC nervously raised a hand in greeting. _What’s her name again? Megan? Mitzy?_ “Hello…girl,” she finally said.

Niles turned around now, rolling his eyes at her as he did so. “Oh, you are the epitome of charm and wit as always, Ms. Babcock.”

No other man could say her name, something that had echoed down the halls of the most upper-crust institutions in New York for over a hundred years, and make it sound so common. She honestly wasn’t sure if she hated or admired him for that ability.

He was smirking at her, waiting for her return volley. _Hate_ , CC decided, _definitely hate._

“Well, I suppose you _would_ know about charm. Charm _in_ , at any rate.” She cackled, congratulating herself on a pun well made.

“Rate!” The child on the ground between their feet waved her hands at them, seemingly demanding her own congratulations for…CC wasn’t sure, but she thought the girl might have simply been proud of herself for saying words.

Maybe the kid had a future in politics.

Niles’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “ _You_ know about bathroom tissue? I hadn’t thought you were house trained.”

“ _What_ did you say to me, Butler Boy?”

“Boy!”

They were both ignoring the child now. “You heard me,” Niles said, stepping closer so that they were nearly nose-to-nose . “The pet stores always say that the females are harder to train than the males.”

“I swear, you haven’t even _seen_ bitch yet—“

“Bitch!”

“CC!”

They jumped apart at Maxwell’s horrified voice. He stormed into the room and grabbed the girl off the floor, holding her tightly in his arms and glaring at CC. “I cannot _believe_ you would use that kind of language in front of my daughter!”

CC gaped like a fish. Hadn’t he heard what the butler had said first? “But Maxwell--!”

“Oh, don’t you ‘ but Maxwell’ me.” Maxwell glared at her once more for good measure and then whipped around to give Niles the same treatment. “And _you_. Do I even want to ask?”

Niles didn’t even have the courtesy to look chastised, which just made CC angrier. This was all his fault! He just clutched his cloth tightly in both hands and shook his head sadly. “Oh, I do apologize, sir. I was just so distracted, what with completing my duties around the house and watching Miss Margaret—“

“Yes, yes.” Maxwell waved off his excuses, but he didn’t seem interested in berating Niles for his part in their little display. That only made CC angrier; somehow, it always worked out that Niles came up smelling like roses around Maxwell, while she looked like a buffoon.

“CC,” Maxwell said, turning back to her. “I hope I can trust you to be more careful around my daughter in the future. And especially since Sara and I have another one on the way…”

From the way he was watching her, CC knew she had no other choice but to bite her tongue and nod. No way would Maxwell ever take her side over the _butler’s_.

Well, she’d just have to make herself as indispensible in Maxwell’s life as Niles was. CC had always respected men who stood firm in their convictions.

“Very good, then. I’m going to go check on Sara.”

With that, Maxwell carried his daughter – _Margaret, Margaret!_ CC repeated – up the stairs. Once she heard the door close behind him, CC directed all of her attention and fury back to Niles. “I hope you know,” she said, “that this means war.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you look great in service dress.” Niles smiled beatifically at her, but his eyes told a whole other story. “After all, not many women can pull off epaulets.”

She gave him a very obvious once-over, crossing her arms across her chest when she finished. “Well, you _would_ know about girlish figures.”

Niles let out a soft chuckle, inclining his head in a gesture of a nod. “Touché, Ms. Babcock.” He picked up his cleaning supplies and walked away, leaving CC alone and frowning in confusion.

She had clearly gotten the last word in just now. She had _won_. Niles had even conceded it. So how was it that she still felt like he’d gotten the upper hand? Never one to leave business unfinished, CC turned around to follow Niles out of the room, determined to make sure she _really_ got the last laugh this time.

She should have remembered that Niles hadn’t been alone in the room when she’d first entered. Her first step towards the back hallway was cut short when she stepped on one of the toys the child had been playing with – toys that neither Maxwell nor Niles had seen fit to take with them when they left – and went flying onto her back.

Maxwell she could forgive for such an oversight. But Niles…

“Niles!”

It was hate she felt for the man. It was absolutely, most definitely hate.

***

“Maxwell!” CC whined, chasing him through the living room. “We simply _must_ do this benefit! Think about how _good_ we’ll look to the theater community if we try to fight this blight on mankind!”

Niles didn’t look up from the laundry he was folding on the couch. “Why would you willingly attend your own execution?”

CC grabbed the pillowcase from his hand and shoved it over his head. “Stuff it, Downy Fresh.”

***

“Ooh, Niles! I’ve never seen you work so hard to clean up so quickly after a party! What’s gotten into you?”

“And the irony is, you’ve never had to ask that question of yourself before.”

***

“Ms. Babcock, I swear if you don’t leave me in peace to finish putting everything together for Mr. Sheffield’s reception tonight, you won’t like what I do to you next!”

“Threatening to sleep with me will get you nowhere.”

“Funny, isn’t that what your last date said, too?”

Niles ducked just in time to avoid the tomato she hurled at his head. “Oh, with an arm like that, you could have played in the Majors. Too bad you overshot their testosterone limits.”

“A problem _you’ll_ certainly never have to worry about!”

***

If Niles had to hear about Mr. Sheffield passing on _Cats_ one more time _,_ he was going to lose his bloody mind.

It had been over five years now, and the man still couldn’t let it go. Niles was loathe to admit it, but he agreed with Ms. Babcock on this one: who would have thought that a show about singing, dancing _alley cats_ would be a worldwide hit?

Not that Niles would ever say such a thing out loud. After all, it had been Ms. Babcock’s advice that led to Mr. Sheffield declining the production rights. Sure, in every other way, she had pulled her weight during that first year as his assistant (and what considerable weight it was); there was no need to harp on one itsy, bitsy little mistake, right?

Niles couldn’t contain a smug laugh as he stared at the picture in that morning’s paper. It was the front page of the _New York Times_ arts section, and staring at the reader above the fold was a wide color shot of Andrew Lloyd Webber at the successful opening of _Cats_ in Germany, following the previous years’ productions in Australia and Canada. The accompanying article made sure to mention the cities it was playing in so far, as well as discussing plans for openings in five more major markets in the next few years. It was going to make Mr. Sheffield blow a gasket, which he would inevitably direct at Ms. Babcock when she came over for their breakfast meeting.

If Niles were a nicer person, he wouldn’t have bought five copies of the paper that morning, cut the article and picture out of each one, and laid each copy on the plates at the dining table before everyone came to breakfast.

But Niles wasn’t that nice.

“You really shouldn’t keep poking this particular hornet’s nest, Niles.”

He turned around at the voice, immediately recognizing the gentle chastisement as this round’s token effort at peace-keeping. “Now, Mrs. Sheffield,” he said, smiling at the lady of the house and the young toddler she balanced on her hip. “I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.

Mrs. Sheffield rolled her eyes and entered the dining room, putting young Master Brighton down in his high chair. She straightened up and raised a questioning eyebrow at Niles. “Really?” There was no mistaking the unspoken _“Just how blind, deaf, and dumb do you think I am?”_ that came next. “Then why are there copies at everyone’s places at the table?”

Niles shrugged, affecting innocence. “I merely thought it best if Mr. Sheffield got the news straight away, while he was still surrounded by family and friends. And this way, no one has to lean over his shoulder to read.”

“Uh-huh.” Mrs. Sheffield shook her head and walked over to the buffet table on the other side of the room and took Master Brighton’s breakfast of _mush_ with a side of _other mush_ from Niles’s hands. “Then why do Margaret and Brighton have copies?” She put the food down in front of her son, who dove in excitedly. “They can’t read.”

“That’s no reason to treat them as if they’re second class citizens.”

Mrs. Sheffield laughed, a bright, merry sound. “Niles, don’t think for one second that I don’t know what this is about.”

Turning his back to her in order to scoop some eggs onto a plate for her, Niles said, “What makes you think it’s about anything other than what I’ve said?” But when he turned back around, Mrs. Sheffield had her arms crossed over her chest and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

“And I suppose this has nothing to do with today being CC’s birthday?”

“Why, Mrs. Sheffield, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. I only mention it because on this date last year, you ‘accidentally’ had her luggage checked to San Marino.”

“So?”

“You sent it to Europe! She was going to _California_!”

Niles blinked. “That was an honest mistake.” And actually, it had been. Well, he had meant to do it, but it was completely coincidental that it happened on Ms. Babcock’s birthday. But what a happy birthday it had been.

For Niles, anyway.

“And of course, three years ago today was the day of the so-called ‘scavenger hunt.’”

The memory of _that_ made Niles chuckle. Really, was it _his_ fault that Ms. Babcock was always so eager to catch a man that she was willing to believe that a secret admirer was leaving her clues to his identity in the _Daily News_ classified ads?

He shook himself out of the memory and caught Mrs. Sheffield watching him. She was smiling slightly, looking at him like she knew the greatest secret in the universe. “What?”

She said nothing, just smiled a little wider. She rested a hand on Brighton’s head, smoothing down his hair as he continued eating his breakfast, although it seemed that more of the food was making its way to the tray than into his mouth. Mrs. Sheffield cast her eyes down her son for a moment, then looked back up at Niles. “Every year,” she said, “you do something completely outlandish on CC’s birthday, and you really expect me to believe that it’s completely on accident?”

Niles still couldn’t place the look in her eyes, but figured it wasn’t worth spending too much time contemplating. If she wanted to tell him her thoughts, she would. Mrs. Sheffield had always treated him as a confidante much the same way Mr. Sheffield did. Still, the fact that she thought he was _celebrating_ Ms. Babcock’s birthday demanded to be addressed.

“Mrs. Sheffield,” he said, “I can assure you that this is not some attempt at commemorating the day of Ms. Babcock’s birth. If I were to do that, there would be far more black clothing and mourning involved.”

Mrs. Sheffield just shook her head. “And she’s just as bad as you are.”

Well, that was just uncalled for. “She is nowhere _near_ my level.”

Mrs. Sheffield was still laughing when CC traipsed through the doorway with a “Hello, hello!” and tossed her fur coat over the chair beside Brighton. Before CC could say anything else, though, she grabbed her heart and gasped. “Oh my god, what is that!?”

“That’s a baby,” Niles said. “A small human created by the combined genetics of a man and a woman. Though you could probably fertilize yourself.”

CC glared at him. “Not _that_.”

Mrs. Sheffield snorted softly. “Brighton’s a _he_ , not a _that_.” But her face said she was clearly expecting to be ignored.

“That!” CC repeated, grabbing the article from her place setting and waving it at Niles. “And…that.” She looked around the table at the papers on each plate. “And that. And that!” She clutched the back of the chair to keep from falling over. “How many copies are there?”

Maggie ran into the room and climbed up into her normal seat. “Good morning!” she chirped.

Niles grinned widely at Ms. Babcock. “There are enough for everyone this morning. Now we’re just waiting on Mr. Sheffield to—“

“No!”  Ms. Babcock raced around the table, grabbing each copy off the plates and crumbling them into a ball in her hands. “Are there any more?”

“You mean other than the fifty papers in the kitchen?” Niles asked.

Ms. Babcock gasped deeply and practically tore up the carpet running into the kitchen as quickly as she did. Mrs. Sheffield sighed and shot Niles a weary look, before leaving her children in his care so she could go calm down her husband’s partner.

Niles shrugged at the two young children who were looking at him. “Well, I thought it was a _lovely_ article.”

Maggie held up her cup. “Juice, please?”

Brighton babbled, then spooned some mush and flung it to the side, where it splattered against Ms. Babcock’s fur coat. Her _white_ fur coat. It really wouldn’t have been so bad, except that the mush was green. Brighton looked back at Niles like he was waiting for a reprimand.

Niles just walked over to the high chair and held out his hand for a high-five. “Excellent work.”

Happy birthday, indeed.

***

Niles had to admit, he rather enjoyed the latest director Mr. Sheffield was working with. Oh sure, the man was a pompous buffoon and _clearly_ had no sense of artistic vision, but he didn’t seem to get along with Ms. Babcock _at all_. All things considered, Niles liked him just fine.

They were standing in the middle of the Sheffield’s living room, arguing about costume and set design; CC and the director are vehemently defending their own positions, while Mr. Sheffield tried vainly to make peace.

Niles didn’t even bother with the pretense of cleaning, and just stood to the side and watched.

“ _Listen_ ,” Ms. Babcock said, one eyebrow raised imperiously, “I have had it up to _here_ with your arrogance! The whole reason you’re working with us is because we have the theater experience to make your show a success! And what you’re suggesting will _not_ make it a success!”

The director snorted. “You know, I was under the impression that I’d be working primarily with Maxwell on this. I wanted bold and brash! I wanted daring! Not some mousy, weak excuse for a stage!”

Ms. Babcock bristled at the implication. “Are you suggesting that I’m arguing for this because I’m a _woman_?”

“Of course not,” the director snapped. “With that wingspan, you’re more of a man than the entire theater company!”

“Hey, now!” Niles marched over to the group and placed himself between Ms. Babcock before he realized what he was doing. “No one insults Babcock but me!”

The entire room fell silent, and Niles turned to meet Ms. Babcock’s shocked face with what he was sure was a similar expression on his own.

No one was more surprised by his actions than him.

***

Sara had been dead for three years, and the house felt like a mausoleum.

CC used the key Maxwell had given her years ago and let herself in the front door. She knew better by now than to wait for Niles to answer, just as she knew better than to greet him with her usual “Hello, hello!” if he _did_ answer the door. Whatever delicate balance they had struck over the years was gone along with the lady of the house.

CC held no illusions about Maxwell’s current state of mind. She knew full-well that he was still mourning his dead wife, just as she knew that Niles was the one holding the broken household together with tape and glue. He held Maxwell’s family together, and she held his business together.

But unlike Niles, who stubbornly refused to push the matter forward, CC knew that it was long past time for Maxwell to put his life back together and move on, and she was just the woman to make that happen.

She wasn’t sure when she developed feelings for Maxwell, although she liked to think she had at least waited until _after_ Sara was gone. Whatever Niles may have thought of her, she wasn’t the sort of woman who chased after married men. She had learned _that_ lesson painfully and permanently.

If Niles heard that thought, he would make a crack about how she wasn’t any sort of _woman_ at all. At least, the old Niles would have. This Niles was just…sad. And mean. There had never been any love lost between them before, but in the years since Sara’s death, as Maxwell slipped further away from both of them, Niles seemed to have channeled his frustrations toward her, and their steady, balanced stream of practical jokes and insults had turned in on itself and become a brittle sort of nothingness.

She was loathe to admit it, but CC actually missed the easy back-and-forth she had shared with the butler for so many years. She had always given as good as she got, and CC was woman enough to concede that Niles had always made things interesting.

Damn, another moment Niles would have appreciated, if things had been different.

But maybe once CC got Maxwell back into the world of the living, things would go back to normal. After all, the man was attractive, wealthy, charming (when he wasn’t brooding and withdrawn), and firmly enmeshed with the upper crust of society. CC was his equal in all of those measures; it only made sense that they should find their way together. And then, once she and Maxwell were married, their business would flourish even more and she and Niles would go back to their mental chess games. Clean, simple; the perfect solution for everyone involved.

The door opened behind her and the three Sheffield children shuffled wordlessly into the house, left their coats with Niles, and headed upstairs, all without a word.

CC winced slightly. She always forgot about the children. Well, she supposed they deserved a sophisticated step-mother. They would just have to appreciate her from the distance of Swiss boarding schools.

Niles hung up the jackets before finally facing her. His face was as flat as his affect. “Oh. You’re here. Again.”

She forced back the instinctive anger at his dismissal. After all, if she was going to win Maxwell’s heart, she would have to get along well with his _oldest_ and _dearest_ friend…the butler. Plastering on a bright smile, CC braced for impact. “Good afternoon, Niles! How are you on this fabulous winter day?”

Niles eyed her cautiously. “Alright, who are you and what have you done with the real CC Babcock?”

“Why, Niles. Can’t I inquire after the welfare of someone I…tolerate?” Well, even _she_ wasn’t that good of a liar.

“I’ll rephrase, then.” Niles stepped off the landing and leaned against the table in the foyer. “What do you _want_?”

CC blinked, hoping she looked shocked and hurt, but suspecting, based on Niles’s expression, that she failed. “Why would you think that just because I’m being nice to you I want something?”

“A decade-and-a-half of precedent?”

“You know--!”

Niles sighed and walked passed her. “If there’s nothing else, Ms. Babcock, I need to attend to my household duties, just as I’m sure you have your own appointments to keep. It’s always rude to keep the vet waiting.” He was almost to the other side of the living room when she called out.

“You see?” She pointed directly at him. “That! That! _That’s_ what you’re supposed to say!”

Slowly, Niles turned around. “Okay, are we going to have to call the special doctors?”

“Yes!” CC said, grinning with excitement. This was the most normal Niles had acted towards her in _months_! He always followed Mr. Sheffield’s example of casual disinterest in, well, everything, especially her. Clearly, the converse would be true as well – if Maxwell could affect Niles’s moods, then Niles should be able to affect Maxwell’s. Which meant that she just had to get Niles to keep treating her _normally_ , and then Maxwell would go back to normal too! And then she could finally make her move and snag herself a yummy Brit!

And, of course, help her poor, dear Maxwell finally put his late wife to rest. All she needed to do was get Niles to see her logic.

Well, hell.

“Alright, Mr. Clean. You want answers?” She sighed and leaned against the back of a chair, propping a hand on her hip. Honesty had always been their staple; it was never easy, but they’d never bothered to hold anything back before. “I’m worried about Maxwell.”

Niles’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest, but he nodded once. “Go on.”

“He walks through this house like a ghost! For all that he throws himself into business ventures, I’m still the one doing all the heavy lifting with our shows.”

At that, his mouth quirked up slightly. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but the muscle definition _is_ starting to show.”

CC rolled her eyes. “And I shouldn’t have to give you such an obvious opening.”

“ _That_ one I’m not touching with a ten-foot pole.”

“Listen, Hoover,” CC said. “You can deflect all you want. But you know as well as I do that Maxwell is still too shut down. It’s been three years already!”

Something in Niles seemed to shut down as well. “She was his _wife_ , and the mother of his children. Not that I expect you to understand that, since _you_ barely remember he even _has_ children half the time!”

“At least _I’m_ willing to do something to help him!”

“I keep his family together!”

“I keep his business together! You know, that thing that keeps his family fed and clothed? Not to mention keeps a certain member of the _house_ _staff_ employed?”

“Oh, come off it!” Niles scoffed. “The only thing you’re concerned about is how soon you can get Mr. Sheffield back down the aisle with you!”

CC pursed her lips tightly. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

Now he laughed at her outright, but it wasn’t the light, amused laughter he used to send her way whenever he had bested her; this was something dry and brittle. “Oh, please. You think I haven’t seen the cow eyes you make at him? You might as well have little cartoon hearts floating around your head whenever you’re in the same room as him.”

CC straightened up, refusing to show weakness as he attempted to cut at her. They never used to make things this personal. “My point is no less valid,” she said, purposely stepping over that particular grenade. “And I don’t think you’d be protesting this much if you didn’t know I was right, and if you didn’t feel like the stuff you cleaned out of the garbage disposal this morning because _you_ haven’t done something to help him first.”

“And you’re proposing, what, an alliance?” He sounded skeptical, but some of the tension seemed to be draining back out of his body, and CC mentally congratulated herself on scoring this point. Anything that made Niles back down from an attack counted as a win these days.

It hadn’t been a competition before, just a constant challenge. She missed being _better_ than Niles, not _winning_ over him. Winning was what everyone else in her life was for.

“I don’t like you,” Niles continued. “Never have, never will.”

CC rolled her eyes again, letting the familiar frustration she always felt with the butler wash over her. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Well, I tried to be subtle about it.” But he was starting to smile a bit, genuinely, and CC knew she had him where she wanted him.

“You don’t have to like me,” CC said. “You just have to agree with me.”

Niles grimaced. “The very _thought_ makes me feel faint.”

“Oh, just sniff some Pine-Sol and man up, Butler!”

“In the interest of this proposed agreement, I’ll abstain from making the easy joke.”

“Well, you’ve certainly had practice abstaining from _other_ things all these years.”

“Hmph.” But Niles mimed a hat tip in her direction. “So what do you want me to do? Start whispering of your virtues into Mr. Sheffield’s ear? Because I’ve got to tell you, that conversation will be over awfully quick.”

CC had to laugh at such a ridiculous notion as Niles _helping_ her. “Please. If you and I tried to coordinate something that important, we’d kill each other before we ever finished planning.” She tilted her head to the side, considering. “No, nothing so forward. After all, I want this to _work_.”

“So what are you suggesting, then?”

“Just a…change in the household atmosphere.”

Niles raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate.

“Maxwell listens to you,” she said. “He always has, though I’ve never figured out why. But he does, which means that you can shape his actions and attitudes.”

“Such powers you give me,” Niles drawled. “How do you know I won’t use them for my own nefarious purposes?”

“Because you’ll like your reward for going with my plan instead. Me.”

Niles blinked. “You, what?”

“ _Me_ , is the reward, you imbecile! Or at least, you get to take your best shot at me again.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years?” he asked. “Unless you don’t think I’ve been giving it my all. In which case I’m highly insulted and demand a chance to defend everything I’ve every hurled your way.”

“Relax, Lemon-Fresh.” CC chuckled at the name; she had actually _missed_ this. She would never admit it to anyone, but this was the most relaxed she’d felt in the Sheffield home since Sara died. Obviously, this meant that she and Maxwell needed to be married, if only to preserve this stability. “You can’t tell me you haven’t missed our little…exchanges. And you also can’t tell me that you haven’t been in a foul mood for as long as Maxwell has.”

“I admit to no such thing,” Niles said haughtily. “But continue.”

“All I’m suggesting, you walking feather duster, is that we try to bring some semblance of normalcy back to this house. We might have different goals in mind, but they’re both best achieved by the same course of action.”

Really, marriage was turning out to be like a military campaign.

Niles didn’t say anything for a few moments, just watched her through narrowed eyes. Finally, he heaved a great sigh. “I suppose, for the sake of helping Mr. Sheffield and the children, that I could be convinced to enter into such an unholy alliance as this.”

CC clapped her hands together, rubbing them excitedly. “Excellent! Now, you go off and…buttle, and I have to go discuss marketing strategies for our new show with Maxwell.” She crossed the room and, in what she could only determine was a moment of weakness brought on by standing too close to the cleaning chemical smells wafting off of him, pinched Niles’s cheeks into a smile. She let them go and lightly slapped his face for good measure. “I’ll see _you_ later.”

She left the room, finally feeling like everything would be alright again. Now that she and Niles were back on the same page, getting Maxwell out of his funk would be easy. Arriving outside his office, CC braced her shoulders and lifted her chin, ready to put her own plan into action.

 _Operation: CC Sheffield_ was about to begin in earnest.

***

Niles was loathe to admit it, but Ms. Babcock had been right. Ever since they had once again found a rhythm, Mr. Sheffield seemed to come a bit more alive when he was in the room with them. But only then, it seemed, because the man still went out of his way to avoid any more interaction with his children than was strictly necessary. Mr. Sheffield hired nanny after nanny, each of them scared off by either Miss Margaret’s near-mutism, Master Brighton’s staged deaths, or Miss Grace’s never-ending psychological diagnoses. It reminded him of a time, so many years ago, when he’d had the same problem with assistants.

Well. Niles had benefited from the solution to _that_ little problem; surely, then, it was in his own best interest to make sure that the right nanny was finally hired for the job. After all, the steady stream of wizened, frumpy, or downright scary ladies that Mr. Sheffield had hired thus far had done nothing but make Ms. Babcock more determined to sink her claws into the man. And honestly, it was starting to get _sad_ watching her attempt to draw Mr. Sheffield’s attention.

Not that Niles didn’t take every opportunity to dig at Ms. Babcock, no matter how pathetic her overtures were. He wasn’t a _saint_.

And he was finally having some fun again.

Nevertheless, it was more than passed time for Ms. Babcock to wake up and realize the futility of her endeavor, and it seemed that no amount of needling from Niles was going to accomplish that. No, what she needed was a real sign that she and Mr. Sheffield would never be together. And if such a sign just happened to simultaneously provide Niles with a whole new outlet for torturing Ms. Babcock, then all the better.

He let the strange-sounding woman with the traveling make-up kit into the house, and smiled to himself. He had a feeling that things were going to get _very_ interesting for all of them.

*END*


End file.
